Beneath the Menoa Tree
by Ouzoyo
Summary: First in a series of oneshots. Just a little something extra added to the scene beneath the Menoa Tree. AryaEragon


Disclaimer: _Eragon_ and _Eldest_ are the property of Christopher Paolini and Random House Inc. I, most unfortunately, am neither. Large parts of this fic are taken directly from _Eldest_.

Beneath the Menoa Tree

"Shall I tell you the story of the Menoa tree?" Arya asked looking at him.

"I'd like that"

"This is what happened. Once there lived a woman. Linnea, in the years of spice and wine before our war with the dragons and before we became as immortal as any being still composed of vulnerable flesh can be. Linnea had grown old without the comfort of a mate or children, nor did she feel the need to seek them out, preferring to occupy herself with the art of signing to plants, of which she was a master. That is until a young man came to her door and beguiled her with words of love. His affections woke a part of Linnea that she had never suspected existed, a craving to experience the things that she had unknowingly sacrificed. The offer of a second chance was too great an opportunity for her to ignore. She deserted her work and devoted herself to the young man, and for a time, they were happy.

"But the young man was young, and he began to long for a mate closer to his own age. His eye fell upon a young woman, and he wooed and won her. And for a time, they too were happy."

"When Linnea discovered that she had been spurned, scorned and abandoned, she went mad with grief. The young man had the worst possible thing; he had given her a taste of the fullness of life, then torn it away with no more thought than a rooster flitting from one hen to the next. She found him with the woman and, in her fury, she stabbed him to death."

"Linnea knew that what she had done was evil. She also knew that even if she was exonerated of the murder, she could not return to her previous existence. Life had lost all joy for her. So she went to the oldest tree in Du Welvenvarden, and pressed herself against it, and sang herself into the tree, abandoning all allegiance to her own race. For three days and three nights she sang, and when she finished she had become one with her beloved plants. And through all the millennia since she has kept watch over the forest . . . . Thus was the Menoa tree created."

At the conclusion of her tale, Arya and Eragon sat side by side on the crest of a huge root, twelve feet off the ground. Eragon bounced his heels against the tree and wondered if Arya had intended the story as a warning to him or if it was merely an innocent piece of history.

His doubted hardened into certainty when she asked. "Do you think the young man was to blame for the tragedy?"

" I think," he said knowing that a clumsy reply could turn her against him, "that what he did was cruel . . . and that Linnea over-reacted. They were both at fault."

Arya started at him until he was forced to avert his gaze. "They weren't suited for each other."

Eragon began to deny it but stopped himself. She was right. And so she had maneuvered him so that he had to say it out loud, so that he had to say it to _her._ "Perhaps," he admitted.

Suddenly embolden her said "Before my aunt died, my uncle was a different person, full of life and happiness. He constantly smiled and joked, he laughed easily and often." He smiled slightly at the found memories, "After…" his face grew solemn "He was never the same. He grew cold, hard, and distant. He didn't talk to Roran and I the same as he had, however, he was adamant about imparting one piece of wisdom. _Its better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all_. No matter how miserable he was, he cherished his moments with Marian, no matter how brief their time together was, and wouldn't trade them for the world."

He looked up at her, "So yes, it is partly the man's fault. It is cruel that her happiness was so brief and that it ended in tragedy, but she was happy, if only a time. Personally I would prefer one day of joy and to spend the rest of my life of misery than a thousand lifetimes with no true happiness." he shrugged "Life is cruel and unfair, it is up to us to make the most of it." He raised his gaze to the immense branches of the tree "_Its better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all_." He repeated with a dry smile. He walked around the Menoa tree and placed his hand on the enormous trunk "I sorrow for your fate." He bowed slightly to the tree.

He sighed and returned to his spot next to Arya, she looked at him intently for a moment before her gaze return to normal.

"How go your studies?"

AN: Well there you go. My very first Eragon Fic ever! I think I've decided that this will be part of a series of One-shots. Please review!


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